Lie is Another Word for Love
by Suitslover14
Summary: When Neal gets a call from Kate after she is supposedly dead he panics. He goes in a downward spiral as Peter and his team desperately try to solve the mystery of Kate and restore order in Neal's world before they lose their friend. Will they be able to do it? How is Kate still alive? Did she ever love Neal? Will Neal ever be the same? Disclaimer: I do not own White Collar.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N I would like to thank Jommy26 for their amazing prompt. Also I'm still adjusting to the White Collar world so I apologize if any of the characters seem too OOC. I hope you enjoy because this story will be around for a while. Please R&R. Tell me what you think so far! **

Love. A four letter word. How could a word so short mean so much? How could it make someone's life mean something yet make someone else's meaningless? It means happiness, it means family, and it means a person there for you. But it also means obsession, depression, it means a deep wound from the break after it is lost. It makes death 10 times harder for those with a loved one and it doesn't mean anything for open who has never loved at all. How can something that is used in everyday life be so complex? It can change a person's heart; it can make them give up everything. It can convince them to throw everything away or regret for not throwing everything away. Most importantly it was _what made Neal Caffery's heart shatter when his love died. It was also what made betrayal flame up in_ his chest when he found out that it was all a lie. A lie named Kate.

…

It was just another ordinary day that started up at the FBI office. It had been a year since Kate's death and Peter and Neal's relationship had grown to mean everything. They were inseparable and Peter was all that Neal had, Neal not ranking too low on what Peter had either. They were working on a forgery case and Neal was playing the role of a corrupt FBI agent who wanted in on the game. His alias was Nathan Coyle and he was on his game the entire day. Until he walked in and his phone rang. He had picked it up, expecting it to be a call from Peter but what it was had made him loose his cover.

"Peter, I'm on my way back to the office soon." Neal had started, keeping up his image as an FBI agent whose boss was Agent Peter Burke. Flashing a wink to Pierre Hale he continued on in his confident voice. "I may be a bit late though, the traffic here is horrible."

"N-Neal. Look I know that this is confusing but I need you to hear me out." Kate's high pitched voice rung in Neal's ears, and his blood ran cold. _Kate's dead, how could she be calling me? It has to be a hoax, or someone who sounds similar._ Neal tried to reason.

"Kate, is that you? But you're dead. No, no, no you can't be alive. You just can't, I can't deal with that. I spent the last year trying to get over that and I can't see you die again, I can't see you…" So much for reason… Pierre pulled out a gun and leveled it at Neal's chest as Neal dropped the phone when he heard two words he thought he would never hear: _I'm alive. _Working on auto drive, Neal raised his hand in a surrendering gesture as Pierre and his goons escaped out the back. The shock finally wearing off Neal collapsed on the ground just as Peter and his team burst through the room. Peter ran towards Neal's side as Jones looked around and came back, verifying that Pierre was gone.

"Neal, talk to me. What wrong, were you shot, did they hit you. Dammit, Neal Talk to me. Call for a bus!" Peter growled, rolling Neal on his back to face upwards and see Peter's face.

"No, no….. I don't need the hospital. K-kate called." Neal mumbled, the exhaustion of the situation making him want to crawl up and fall asleep.

"But Kate's dead." Peter said, looking Neal over for a head trauma to explain why his partner didn't remember Kate dying.

"No, she's not, check my call history. She called me. She's alive." Neal answered, using up the last bit of energy he had and fell into a deep, uninterrupted sleep as Peter yelled at the team to track the call and find out if Kate was still alive.

….

Neal woke up 2 hours later to a room swarming with FBI agents. He was lying on the Burke's couch with a green blanket covering him and Satchamo lying next to him. His body felt numb, his mind still trying to wrap around the last few hours. _Kate's alive, she's alive and she never told me. She blew up and yet she's alive. How can she be alive? Where was she? Who had her? Who was still keeping her?_ Neal was so deep in thought he didn't notice Peter walk up behind him. Neal let out a garbled scream and bolted off the couch when Peter's firm hand landed on his shoulder. Puzzled, Peter tried to get Neal to calm down.

"Neal, hey buddy. It's okay, it's just me." Frantic blue eyes settled on the deep brown eyes that Peter was desperately trying to keep panic out of. Neal's breathing quickened and with every breath he became more panicked.

"P-peter….I…. Can't…. Breathe." Neal wheezed, pausing to gulp in a breath that didn't do him any good.

"Neal, breathe slower, like this." Peter sated, crouching down and exaggerating his breaths so Neal could copy him. But, it wasn't working and Neal was starting to turn pale, the light in his eyes was going out, and he was slumping against Peter. "Neal, come on. You can do this, you have to do this." Peter stated, desperate for some results or Neal was going to pass out.

Peter was supporting more of Neal every second that went by until he was dead weight. Turning him on his side, Peter felt for a pulse, it was too fast but not too dangerous and at least the panic attack was over. Tapping Neal's face lightly, Peter tried to wake up his unconscious CI. Slowly, Neal's glassy blue eyes opened and met Peter's.

"Welcome back to the land of the living." Peter said, trying to lighten the mood. As soon as Neal had woken up all the agents in the living room had dispersed but Neal was still embarrassed at how vulnerable he was.

"Thanks." Neal muttered weakly, trying to push himself into a standing position. Neal swatted at Peter's hand that came to help him up.

Neal managed to stand, swaying a bit before blinking away the black licking his vision. He muttered and insincere goodbye and disappeared into the bedroom. _This experience is going to kill Neal unless I do something about it. _ Peter solemnly thought before returning to his team and trying to solve the mystery that was Kate Moreau.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N I apologize for taking so long to update this story. Things have been crazy. I want to thank all of you for your feedback and support. Please review and tell me what you think. Thanks!**

Neal couldn't sleep, the events of the day replaying in his head over and over again. He wasn't sure what to make of it. For a year he had thought that he had lost Kate, that the love of his life was gone forever. 6 months of that had just been him getting over that fact and he couldn't believe that the whole thing was a trick. He had seen Kate on the airplane, her beautiful blue eyes portraying a goodbye and her black hair swaying in the light breeze. Neal had thought she looked beautiful-as she always does- but even more so, maybe amplified with the fact that he thought she was leaving. Neal thought back to that day, how he had raced to talk to Kate before she left. How Peter had followed him and how the plane exploding had shaken and shocked both of them. The day was bright and sunny; the sky a shade of robin egg's blue but that was before the fiery explosion that engulfed the plane. The black plume filling the air and turning the pleasant day into a nightmare. Neal let a few tears he didn't know he had been holding in fall down his face and with a squeak of the springs, shifted on the bed to face the window. He almost gasped at what he saw.

There on the balcony stood a sheepish Mozzie who was nervously cleaning his glasses. Neal wondered how long he had been there and stood up to open the door. With a clank and a thank you Mozzie strolled through the doors, facing the brown-haired, blue-eyed man he called his best friend. Mozzie motioned to sit down on the burgundy chairs that were in Neal's room and they both sat down. Neal, in only his red boxers, shrugged a black fitted t-shirt and plaid pajama pants on and settled into a chair. He offered Mozzie a blanket to protect him from the chilly night air streaming through the balcony doors. But Mozzie declined, stating that his tan long sleeved t-shirt and black slacks were warm enough. In hushed whispers, as to not disrupt The Suit, Mozzie started to talk to Neal.

"How you holding up?" Mozzie asked. Neal could see that numerous questions were bouncing around his head but Mozzie always was more concerned with Neal than answers.

"I'm fine; it's just a bit of a shock. I mean you think that for a year someone is dead and that your friends were right and she never actually loved you. And then one day you get a phone call and you know that at least part of that isn't true." Neal answered, bitterness making his words sharp and pointy.

"Neal… I know this is hard for you but aren't you curious? How did she escape? How did she survive and who did she live with after?" Mozzie asked, his eclectic and curious side getting the better of him.

"I don't know." Neal sighed, showing his vulnerable side, a side he only let Mozzie see if he could help it-which generally he could except for…. Kate- and even at that he kept it a minimum.

"Yeah, so how's it like to have the enemy crawling all over you apartment? It must be a nightmare, I hope you hid anything you didn't want Peter to find." Mozzie blurted, his paranoia coming out at full blast. He stopped insulting Peter soon after a blue-eyed glare from Neal.

Neal ran his hands through his hair, after everything that had happened he just wanted the chase with Kate to be over. He had gotten justice, Adler had confessed and Kate's mystery had been laid to rest but now…. Now all that anxiety that he never let people see, all that obsessive behavior he had towards finding Kate would be back again. He had managed to keep it a bay before, forcing himself to sleep and eat; to take a break and relax or paint. But he wasn't so sure that he would have enough energy or will power to do that this time; he was afraid that this newfound mystery may destroy him.

….

"Jones, can you track the call?" Peter barked, desperate to uncover a new lead.

"No, they used a burner phone. Or I guess she used a burner phone." Jones answered in an accented voice. He removed the headset from his chocolate brown hair and shrugged his black suit jacket off of his body. Leaving a stark contrast between his white dress shirt and his dark skin.

"She's smart, but I wish Neal had listened to her longer. He never heard what she wanted from him and that could have proven valuable." Peter answered, stating his thought process out loud in hopes of some sort of connection that could lead him to Kate.

Peter was worried about Neal, it had taken him 6 months just to get over Kate's death and Peter didn't want to imagine how hard it would be for him to see her die another time. Peter let out a frustrated humph. He thought back to those hard days where he had to pretend to not notice the number of ribs he could count through Neal's shirt and the dark circles under his eyes; the days where Neal was jumpy and never drank coffee, afraid that caffeine might fry his overworked brain. To the days where Peter had to lie to El to keep her from mothering Neal, Peter knew that Neal was private and any interference would cause him to hide and could endanger his health even more. With all those thoughts running around in his head he was beginning to think of checking up on Neal but then Jones' voice snapped him back to the mission.

"Peter!" Jones yelled, motioning for the team to follow and for someone to fetch Neal.

"What do we got?" Peter inquired, his voice smooth and tainted with pleasure.

"Someone is calling and I think it might be Kate." Jones answered.

Neal walked in, his eyes puffy. Peter didn't know if it was from sleep or lack thereof or even tears but they had a mission at hand. Peter shoved the phone in Neal's shaking hand and slid a pair of sleek, black head phones over his ears. Neal nodded, like he understood what this was for and what he had to do. Neal took a deep breath, clicked the answer button, and threw on a Caffery smile to put him in the mood.

"Caffery." Neal answered, his voice bouncy and light unlike his stormy mood.

"Hello Neal….. Kate's with me." A raspy man's voice flooded through the phone but Neal's smile never faltered.

"Long time no see." Neal answered, he just received a chilling laugh in response. "What do you want?" Neal became all business, not wanting to allow more lollygagging to occur.

"What I want Caffery, is something you already know I'm searching for. I hope you find it. Tomorrow, same time and tell you FBI friends that it was nice talking to them too." That was the line when Neal's smile finally fell off his face, his blue eyes becoming dark and dangerous, his perfect pink lips formed a line and he let out a small grunt. "Goodbye Neal, Kate's waiting." The man responded, letting out another high-pitched cackle and hung up. Leaving Neal with his dark thoughts and the object that the man was looking for. The real painting by Edward Munch, the painting everyone knows as the Scream. The painting that Neal had forged, then returned, just to have his own copy. But the man had been fooled and had been gunning for it ever since. Now Neal didn't know what to do, he didn't have it but the man wanted it. The man wanted it and Neal wanted to give it to him, to save Kate and get out of this with his own sanity.

**A/N I hoped you enjoyed it. Please review**


	3. Chapter 3

The Southern voice was one that Neal recognized. It belonged to a vulgar, aggressive, and abusive ex-employer who lives in Texas. His name was Samuel Edwards. Samuel Edwards had Kate, Neal knew Sam, it was how he had met Kate. She had been his girlfriend that the moment and Neal was working for him. Usually Neal flew solo but those were the pre-legacy days where there was no Mozzie and he was desperately trying to work up a reputation. The way Neal had found it easiest was to get a legacy to hire him. So he prepared a forgery of Vincent Van Gough's Starry night and Sam had hired him on the spot. Neal remembered every detail of that man, how white his teeth were in contrast to his Texan skin, how freckles dotted his nose and he had a single dot by his right eye. How Sam always wore his black leather cowboy boots and his lucky brown leather belt and inscribed belt buckle. Neal also remembered his vulgar and cruel personality that he could hide with an easy smile and a small sentence in his smooth, Southern drawl.

Sam was a man that people naturally trusted; he was the person who gained access to art pieces. However, being the offspring of a supermodel and an accountant, he didn't exactly have artistic genes. That's where Sam had needed Neal: the artist he could control. Everyday Sam would lead Neal to a small white room, with a sliver table, a single pale wood easel, and any art supplies he would need. Neal remembered how Sam would shut the steel door and lock him into the suffocating room after barking orders to be completed by the day, if they weren't there would be hell to pay. Neal while recalling this absent-mindedly rubbed at the small scar hidden by his beautiful dark hair. The scar that had taught Neal to do and not ask; the scar that had come from an uncompleted work and a steel chair pounding into his skull.

But those days were not always a hellish prison he couldn't escape, he had Kate. Kate would sneak in during the day and give him Ice Tea and one of her bright pearly smiles. They always gave him strength to continue working, and Neal always noticed that they seemed to have the same effect on Kate. After their visits, Kate's eyes always smiled, the blue in her eyes coming out further and she would often thank Neal for the nice encounters. Some days she would share her plans. She loved the classics and always dreamed of getting away from Sam, working with a man to complete her own cons, and with enough money, she would retire to Paris with the man of her dreams. That man turned out to be Neal and once Kate and Neal had taken enough abuse, they had quit working for Sam and flew all over the world, completing their own heists and collecting their own precious works. They had returned to new York when Neal went to prison, 3 years and months later Kate went missing.

Neal gritted his teeth at the idea that Kate was still missing and he had to find her. He punched the table in the kitchen, it was the only place in the house where he could escape Peter's awkward glances and concerned looks. Neal didn't know what he was going to do. Right before Neal and Kate had quit and run away together, Sam had wanted to steal the painting, The Scream. Sam had been hunting it for years, it was his ultimate goal. But halfway during the planning, the warehouse caught fire and destroyed all the blueprints. Soon after, they had left. Rumor stated that Sam had never stopped yearning it and had chased it for years. Sam had fallen out of the top ranks due to that and his obsession soon grew into a desire so severe, it bordered on insane. A few years back, Neal had made a forgery of the perfect painting, the soft brushstrokes and warm, mellow colors right up the easy-going conman's ally. Sam must have caught wind of the forgery that Neal had passed off as the real thing and kidnapped Kate.

But now Neal was stuck. He was stuck between Kate and Peter. Neal didn't want to let Peter down, he didn't want to be that conman that Peter had chased all those years, and he wanted to be the gentle and kind person that Peter considered a friend. He didn't want to keep giving out false smiles and deceiving hand shakes. He wanted to have friends that made him laugh, that made him want to be a better person. And as socially inept as Peter was, he was the perfect man for the job, he had always been there and was really starting to trust Neal. On the other hand, Kate was the love of Neal's life. He would die for her, and he would get that painting for her. But, Neal didn't know if Kate loved Neal or love the idea of him, the idea of a conman that could help her achieve her goals. Who could teach her to make her own forgeries and get her enough money to move to Paris. Neal didn't know how many of her ' I love yous' she had meant, he didn't know how many of her smiles had been real, how many of her kisses had been passionate. And the thought that Kate couldn't have loved him always was there in the back of his mind, lurking in the shadows, and waiting for a weak enough mind to pounce and deliver a devastating blow. This was one of those moments, and Neal knew who he cared about more, who had proven worthy, who he would trust and who he would stick by. He may have loved Kate but he wasn't willing to give up what he had built back up with Peter after Fowler and Adler. He was going to figure this out; he was going to save his Kate without burning bridges. There was one man he could trust. And that man was Peter Burke.

**A/N Sorry that it's just a filler chapter but I needed to establish background. Please review, every review makes me want to write another chapter! Thank you guys for all your support so far and I hope you like the story so. **


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N I know that I keep saying this but I'm sorry for the long update for such a short chapter. Summer is almost here and I will update sooner. Please review and if you like the Selection also check out A Charmingly Broken story which I will add another chapter to. **

"Peter." Neal's voice cracked on that one word and had he not been one hundred percent done, he would have kicked himself for being so vulnerable. "I need your help." Neal admitted, turning his face to his shoes so he wouldn't have to look at Peter's smug face. _That bastard, _he thought imagining the small smirk from his small victory of changing Neal.

"What with?" Peter questioned and try as he may, he couldn't keep the smile out of his voice.

"I know the man who has Kate, and I know what he wants. But I can't get it to him, without your help and a damn good forgery." Neal bit out, gritting his teeth and looking Peter square in the face. Thus, reminding Peter that while Neal was not a naturally violent man, he knew how to protect himself and who he cared about.

"_Okay tell me your plan and I will run it by Hughes." Peter sighed, hoping that the plan, that_ would certainly skirt the law, would be on the right side of the law. The one that didn't end up with Neal in an orange jumpsuit and him without a badge.

"I already have a forgery made, well… I used to. After everything with Kate, I burned it; I didn't want you to think that I was going against you again. I didn't want to lose you again. I didn't want to screw up again. But Sam he found out about it, except he thought it was the real thing. Now he wants it, but I don't have the real one or the forgery to give. However, if we can set it up and get a warrant, Peter, this man has done some pretty horrible things. He used young naïve artists who just want to paint and makes them into his slaves, to do anything and everything that he wants them to do, if we can get Hughes on board, we could take him down and rescue Kate." Neal explained, rubbing irritably at his shoulder, remembering the scars that remained on his back from being that slave to Sam. Yet, Neal had to admit; he had been asking for it, he had gone to Sam himself. That didn't make what Sam did right: turning Neal into his own personal punching bag, and whipping him until he did a good enough job.

Peter bowed his head, thinking the plan over. If he had to be honest, it wasn't bad, he was sure Hughes would jump on board and he was positive that Jones and Diana would help out. They would do anything to keep the CI out of jail because even though they would deny it, they had all grown close to the suave con-man who turned in his devilishly charming smile for a less cocky, genuine one. Peter ran his hand and went to call Hughes, nodding at Caffery. Neal did the same, only to call Mozzie, If they were going to get into Sam's apartment there had to be a tip. He was a conman after all and he still had a few tricks up his sleeve that Peter didn't know about.

"I talked to Hughes, he agrees that this could be a huge bust for us and said that with _supervision_ you can create a forgery of The Scream." Peter said with a pointed look and a mumbled _damn art freaks._

"Okay when does the operation go down?" Neal asked, his blue eyes shining at the opportunity to gain Kate back.

"Tomorrow Night, but there is something that you won't like." Peter trailed off, refusing to look Neal in his sea-blue eyes.

"Peter." Neal warned his heart spiking. Did he want him to carry a gun?

"He knows what you look like, we need to um…" Peter couldn't finish the sentence.

"What?" Neal was only a few shallow breaths from a panic attack; Peter needed to finish that sentence.

"You have to die your hair blonde. And wear colored contacts to make one eye green and one eye brown. We also have to… Well I don't know how to say this but we need to fabricate an old bullet wound on your back." Peter explained, knowing that the blonde dye would wear off in a couple of weeks.

"We can do without the bullet scar." Neal growled, he had enough scars on his back from Sam to last a lifetime, he didn't need a bullet wound too.

"Neal, it's for your cover you have to look badass not the pampered patron you look like today." Peter sighed, exasperated.

"I have scars on my back already." Neal explained, diverting his blue eyes from the mocha iris of Peter's.

"You do? Yeah right." Peter scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"Yeah I do." Neal spat, unbuttoning his blue striped shirt and loosening his charcoal tie.

He undid every ivory button, shrugging it off. He turned around and Peter gasped. His huge hand covering his pink mouth. Peter wordlessly moved forward and peered at the whip-like marks on Neal' s back. Neal stiffened when Peter took a ling finger and traced scar after scar on his perfectly freckled skin. Peter moved his hand back when he got to the small of Neal's back where a single burn mark lay.

"Cigar." Neal stated, turning back around.

"Who?" Peter breathed.

"Sam Edwards, I was his artistic Mule. He whipped me until I did the job quick and correctly. One day I snapped at him and he burned me." Neal supplied, leaving off the part about having a steel chair smash into his head.

"I'm so sorry Neal, I didn't know." Peter apologized. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Let me nail this bastard."

Peter smirked, if there was one thing he could do, it was that.

**A/N I hoped you liked it. Please review! They make me want to update sooner!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N Read, Love, Review, you know the drill. I would just like to thank Jommy26 once again for giving me this amazing prompt and I am excited for the rest of the story to happen. Enjoy!**

Neal looked in the mirror, he didn't look like himself. They dyed his hair a strawberry blonde and made his eyes two different colors. They dressed him in a black graphic T and long dark wash jeans. They put in fake earrings and painted his nails red. He was going in as the "muscle" of the operation, sure Sam had the ability to wound other people but he preferred others to do it. In this case Neal was being hired to threaten, well… to threaten himself. Although his name wasn't Neal anymore, it was Adrian Coyle. He was going in to meet Sam, get close to him, map the place out and then they would get a warrant and nail this guy. But Neal had a few other plans, he wanted to find where Kate was, he wanted to free whatever artist mule he had at the moment and he wanted to make sure that no one got hurt.

Tears bubbled up in Neal's newly colored eyes and he blinked them away. This whole process was hurting him, eating him from the inside out. He was glad that Kate was still alive but he didn't know if she had ever loved him. He liked that the past year was simple, that he wasn't at odds with Peter once they got over Fowler and Adler. It was simpler when there wasn't a girl in the picture and Peter trusted him more as his old con friends started to fade. Now Peter was on edge and Neal didn't know if he would survive this process. There was a pain by Neal's heart and he realized that he was breathing way too fast. Suddenly, his thoughts went on overdrive. There was Adler and Fowler, Sam, and Kate, Mozzie barely sticking around, Peter angry at him. Neal was on his knees now and struggling to keep conscious. His lungs felt sharp and every breath he took his heart ached more and more. Black licked the edges of his vision. He was In the FBI bathroom; all he had to do was get Peter to come. Lifting an impossibly stiff and heavy leg he crawled to the door. He pounded it open; Peter was just down the blue hallway, wrapped up in his glass office.

"Peter!" Neal cried, wincing when it burned his too dry throat and caused more pain to spike in his chest. His mind was becoming fuzzy and Peter hadn't looked up. "P-p'ter." Neal slurred, his breathing slowing down and his vision tunneling.

"What do you need Neal?" Peter spat out, looking up from his desk.

In an instant Pete was on his feet, in the door of the bathroom the newly designed Neal was slumped against the tan doorway leading to the bathroom. His eyes were closed; his pink lips parted allowing some air to get in but barely. Jones saw Peter racing through the hallway like a man with his pants on fire and followed suit. He dropped off when he saw Neal, the single person that Peter was headed towards, to call a bus. Peter reached Neal and he couldn't help but be nervous at the paleness of his skin. It was the color of milk, the fake freckles they had added on like stars against a perfectly blank sky. Tear trails led down Neal's face and his strawberry blonde hair flipped down his face. Peter gripped his hand, searching for a pulse, it was fast and thready, his breathing was shallow, and Peter was left to piece together the pieces of events.

"Neal? Dammit Neal, wake up. I need your snarky comments to make it through the morning and El needs a cooking buddy." Peter stated, trying to coax Neal's green and brown eyes to open. He stirred, groaning but his eyes remained closed. "Neal, wake up, we have mortgage fraud cases!" Peter yelled.

"P'tr." Neal slurred, his mind still fuzzy and his head ached from hitting the door a bit too hard. He blinked up at Peter and ran a manicured hand through his sandy hair. "You look funny crouching down like that." Neal stated, pointing a finger at Peter's half crouch, half slumped figure.

"Well, your brain is working enough to insult me, can you stand?" Peter asked, shooing off Jones and the paramedics that had just arrived.

"Yeah." Neal replied, pushing off with shaking arms and swatting Peter's helping hands. He rose to his normal stature only to almost collapse. With complaints, Neal allowed Peter to guide him to his couch.

"What happened?" Peter questioned once they had made it to the comfort of his couch.

"Nothing. I'm fine." Neal stated. Bowing his head, he knew that he should have told Peter how he couldn't breathe and how he panicked, and then Peter could help him. But his con-man mind kept flashing a DON'T SHOW VULNERBILITY sign whenever he even thought about it. Weakness meant defeat and defeat meant injury or death. He glared at me and I sighed.

"I don't know. All these thoughts about Sam and Kate and Mozzie and our falling out got to me. I just couldn't breathe and you weren't there." Neal stopped, coaxing his breathing back to normal.

"Neal, look at me." Peter stated and Neal blushed. Peter was trying to be gentle, comforting, he hated to see Neal so broken, the charming con-man replaced by a worn down, traumatized young man.

"What?" Neal whimpered, staring at Peter straight on.

"I know that you are scared, scared that you will lose me again but Neal. That falling out sucked, I was angry but every time I saw that you weren't there, it killed me. I need you, Neal. You are part of my life. And if you think that I can live without your mindless babbling and pointless preferences you are wrong. So, Cowboy up." Peter explained and Neal smiled at the 'Cowboy up'. Peter meant what he said and as long as Neal believed that, everything would turn out fine.

**A/N What do you guys think about Neal's new look? Do you like it, are you concerned? Don't worry, the dye washes out! Anyway, thanks for reading, I will post more soon. Please review!**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N kinda short, more background, more Peter Neal bondage. Enjoy and review!**

"Hello, Neal. Hope you still have the reminders of our time together." Sam cackled into the phone in his Southern Drawl, it as the next day, at the same time. Neal had convinced the FBI to just have Peter listen in; he didn't want anyone else to know about the scars.

"You know that I would never jeopardize the reminder of what a heartless bastard you are." Neal snapped into the phone, blinking back tears in his brown and green eyes.

"Darlin', you have always had such great comebacks, if I remember correctly, it was that smart mouth that gave you those scars. How are your seizures nowadays anyway, have they gone away?" Sam questioned, his Southern accent making the conversation sound sticky and sweet, even though it was boiling underneath.

"Seizures, I don't recall anything about seizures, just 20 blissful moments everyday when I didn't have to look at your face. Anyway, cut the crap. I have what you want but I want Kate first." Neal stated, knowing that Sam wouldn't ever go for it and would hire 'Adrian Coyle' just as the FBI planned.

"You know that I can't have that, I'll just have to hire someone to give you the gift of '20 blissful moments without your memory" again. Always a pleasure, same time tomorrow, you better have a nicer negotiation." Sam hung up and Neal smiled a triumphant grin, his plan had worked.

Peter slow clapped from his chair in the middle of the room, his mouth twisted into a smirk, the equivalent of Neal's cocky smile. Now, their plan had been set into motion, Neal was going to be hired as Adrian Coyle, and would call in to be patched into Sam's daily calls. No one would get hurt even with Sam's threats and as Neal grew closer, they would present the forged Scream. Then, while the deal is going down, Peter will arrest Edwards and Neal will go and find Kate. It was a pretty simple operation, except for the fact that Sam was unpredictable and some things could go wrong. They could never assure that Kate wouldn't get hurt in the process and if Edwards recognized 'Adrian' as Neal, the whole operation would go to hell, There was a lot riding on it.

As Neal and Peter wrapped up their mini celebration, the mood grew somber. Peter wanted to know why Neal had seizures, and how Peter never knew. Sure, things like Scars and past friends could be kept from a man chasing you down for half your life, but seizures? Those things came on quick and lasted a long time, the twitching and flailing limbs having the possibility to harm yourself further. And the 10 minute postictil period was spent in unconsciousness. He wondered how long Neal had been plagued by the convulsions, his freckled arms arcing and bowing and his blue eyes fluttering open and shut.

"Neal?" Peter cautiously asked. "Can I ask you about what he said.

"What about?" Neal replied, his shoulders tight and tense.

"How long, did the um… seizures occur." Peter blurted before he lost his couage.

"2 years, but it was before I met you, I was 17 and a smart ass. I said something, Sam got angry and burned me with the cigar. Then, he took the metal chair in the room and bashed me upside the head. They lasted until I was 19, then they stopped, doctors said it was because my brain had healed itself or something like that." Neal explained sheepishly, ringing his painted hands, and fidgeting, his back twisting and contorting, as if Neal could rid it of the scars by moving.

"Damn." It was all Peter could think of.

"Indeed, they still come every now and again. But generally, I can hide them from people." Neal admitted, sighing and plopping down into the black chair in his kitchen-well, June's but it was basically Neal's.

"Wait, so that one day when you came in late and blamed it on a bad hair day you…" peter trailed off, millions of pathways connecting in his brain to lead to his brilliant revelation. He inspected Neal, his brown eyes trailing over the conman in a deep blue tee and light wash jeans.

"Yeah, don't tell anyone. Weakness means injury or death, never reveal it to anyone but your closest allies and even then, approach with caution." Neal said, channeling Mozzie and the whole group of conspiracy theorists.

Peter nodded, his mind racing as fast as Usain Bolt. There was so much more to the charming con-man that Peter had never realized. He was special, through and through. His mind, brilliant in many qualities, his ability to create a flawless persona when he was really a broken man, his hand able to create magnificent grails and beautiful sculptures. He was unique, different, a man that the world needed. He was so broken, yet he had the brightest smile, he was so vague yet able to convey thrilling stories. He was a man that Peter considered a best friend, but he was still more than that. He was the infuriating younger brother that Peter never had, he was different in every way but someone Peter and Neal always had a connection.

"Neal, you can always put your trust in me, I'm Alcatraz." Peter vowed, his deep brown eyes set, determined to protect.

Neal cracked a grin, only Peter would make a prison reference to a former criminal. One that had managed to escape _Maxiumum Security_, while in _solitude_.

"Come on. Let's go meet Hughes for debriefing and contact with Edawrds." Neal coaxed, throwing a toned arm over Peters shoulders and walking out with every ounce of self confidence he had.

**A/N Y'all ready to meet Sam Edwards? He shall be in one of the next few chapters. Let me know what you think of this one. Review, please. You guys have been doing an amazing ob of reviewing lately and I just wanna give you guys credit, you really cheer up my day. *sniffling* Okay I'm gonna stop before I start joy crying on how amazing you people are. **


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